


Alone Without Each Other

by ExecutiveEspressoDepresso



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, F/M, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal is whipped, M/M, Tags to be added, WandaVision AU, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExecutiveEspressoDepresso/pseuds/ExecutiveEspressoDepresso
Summary: Hannibal and Will live in a house in Cuba, which is all either of them can ever recall wanting.Hannibal can't remember a life without Will.Will doesn't imagine life without Hannibal. He's not sure if he can
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Alone Without Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> AKA The Wandavision AU no one asked for

“Darling have you seen my tie? The paisley one with maroon and currant design?”

Will’s head turned in the direction of his husband and, in fact, the answer to his husband's question. A smile spread on his face, warm affection blooming in his chest as he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the dark marble countertop with a hand on his hip.

The lack of an immediate response made Hannibal’s hands pause in his search for his favored travel mug amongst the mugs nestled in the cabinet, facing Will with a curious head tilt. “What is so amusing, mylimasis?,” he questioned, a teasing lilt in his tone matching the amused upwards flicker of his lips.

Will crooked a finger to beckon the taller man closer, which he did without complaint. “Honestly, love,” he chided good naturedly, his hands going to Hannibal’s neck to run his fingers over the fabric of the silk tie, his grin widened considerably. Hannibal’s eyes dropped from Will’s face and he sighed with insincere exasperation as he realized his blunder. “What would you do without me?,” Will questioned, a finger lifting one end of the accessory in humoured emphasis.

Hannibal lifted his head back to gaze at his husband, allowing Will’s fastening of the tie into a double Windsor, his own hand going to brush a few unruly curls off of the shorter man’s forehead. “Perish out of sorrow, undoubtedly,” the doctor said very seriously, although his eyes were visibly shining with unrestrained softness when Will pulled back. “After burning much of the world in my wake, of course.” His teeth flashed in a smile and kissed Will’s forehead. 

Hannibal always looked at Will in such a way, as if he was but a mere worshipper of a divine god instead of a companion that Will held in equal regard. He didn’t mind of course, Will knew a similar expression often graced his own face. 

It made Will weak in the knees with just how much love Hannibal held for him. He certainly did his best to ensure Will never doubted it for a moment.

“Of course,” Will echoed with equal sincerity. His fingers wrapped around the newly secured necktie to pull Hannibal’s lips against his own. They slotted perfectly together, Hannibal moved to cup the back of Will’s neck and place his own hand over Will’s. 

Will wondered if he would ever get used to the soft yet staggering love that overwhelmed him every time he was with Hannibal. Considering he felt himself practically glow with joy from just a simple chaste goodbye kiss, Will didn’t presume it was going to happen anytime soon. The man seriously doubted it would ever occur at all.

A bubbly laugh escaped from Will’s mouth when Hannibal pulled Will closer by the hips in an attempt to turn the demure kiss into something considerably less innocent. For all Hannibal’s poise and restraint, he was incredibly passionate when it came to his husband, no matter the situation or time of day. “Darling, you have work,” Will reprimanded, releasing the necktie and splaying his hand across Hannibal’s chest to gently push him back.

Hannibal hummed in discontent, eyes opening at the separation. “Must I?,” he inquired. Both hands taking Will’s from Hannibal’s chest to instead kiss his fingers tenderly. Looking up at Will through his pale eyelashes, complete veneration etched on his face as he pressed his lips to each of Will’s knuckles. He put as much care into the worshipful gesture as he did his artwork, which was unsurprising, Hannibal often compared him to the artworks he was so terribly fond of.

Will pushed his free hand through Hannibal’s ashen hair, gazing adoringly at his husband and the matching gold wedding rings upon their ring fingers. The man never tired of seeing them, especially when their hands were interlocked. The constant presence of their union was a comfort, and Will often found himself rubbing the ring on his finger when he was under stress. “Yes, Hannibal,” Will said, although he made no move to stop Hannibal’s loving acts. “Patients to help, minds to ease. Dinner with the Marshalls tonight.”

“Of course,” Hannibal agreed with a forlorn sigh, actions suggesting he would rather do anything else. “What will you do today, darling?” Hannibal straightened up, regretfully letting go of Will’s hand to continue his previous perusal for the white porcelain travel mug he often brought to the office with him.

Will watched Hannibal search, leaning back with both palms against the cool counter. Observing Hannibal in the kitchen, whether it was cooking a five course meal or simply retrieving something, was an enjoyment all on its own. The man may have pursued a career in the medical field, but he was never more at ease or in his element than he was within a kitchen, whether it be their own elegant set up or a neighbor’s residence as an impromptu sous chef. “I’ll go on a grocery run,” Will said in response to his husband’s inquiry. “There’s a jam pie recipe I want to try, I’ll pick up ingredients for that and for dinner.”

Finding his mug, Hannibal poured coffee from the antique machine, lifting his eyes to Will. “Thank you, Will,” Hannibal smiled, even though Will always went out to buy groceries while Hannibal was at work, “We have enough meat from our last hunt.” He brought the caffeinated drink to his lips and sipped it with brows raised to Will. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to another hunt after dinner to replenish our stock?”

Will paused, mouth around the rim of his own gray speckled mug. “I thought the Marshalls _were_ replenishing our stock,” Will said slowly, setting the coffee down carefully, making Hannibal pause his drinking as well to fully focus his attention on his husband.

“You said we were having the Marshalls for dinner, did you not?,” Hannibal attempted to clarify, fingers that were not currently wrapped around his mug delicately tapping against the surface of the counter in a pattern Will recognized as Chopin.

Will gestured to the open Italian leather notebook the couple used to record plans and lists in. The date marked in Hannibal’s perfect cursive, and underneath was written _Foie Gras With The Marshalls_

“See?,” Will emphasized, shifting to let Hannibal move beside him so he too could examine the plans. Unable to resist, Will brushed his hand over Hannibal’s hair, blue eyes roving over Hannibal’s curious expression. _I am so in love with this man_ , Will dreamily thought to himself, certainly not for the first time. Momentarily forgetting that they were in the middle of a conversation, Hannibal’s deep voice roused Will from his contemplations.

“Yes,” Hannibal said confidently, leaning into Will’s hand as he faced him. “ _With_ the Marshalls. They are our guests, not dinner, my darling.” The man held Will’s hand against his cheek, kissing Will’s palm softly. 

Will tilted his head with a frown, glancing at the notebook again but making no move to pull his hand from Hannibal’s warm cheek. “You had Lilah Henderson marked _with_ as well. We ended up having kebabs the next night.”

Hannibal hesitated, eyes flitting back to the page, thoughtfully running his thumb over the back of Will’s hand. Will watched the gears turning in his head with the quiet admiration he always did at his husband’s mind. 

“I can not recall them doing anything discourteous,” Hannibal continued pensively. “And we don’t normally hunt in pairs.”

“We have their business card,” Will pointed out, pulling his hand away from Hannibal to pick up their rolodex in the cabinet above the oven. They’d had the rolodex full of their victims for as long as Will could remember, and although Will thought it was too obvious, Hannibal had seemed thrilled at having an assortment for him and his husband to share between them, so Will had relented. He flipped through the many cards, fingers skimming over the paper squares until he found the one he was searching for. 

Will detached the green bordered white card from the contraption and brought it to his face. “House of Flowers. Nicole and Horace Marshall,” he read from the card. Will held it up between two fingers, leaning against the counter and looking at Hannibal with raised brows, waiting.

Hannibal pulled on his overcoat, still musing over the fate of their acquaintances. “Well we do like florists. Could you have put them in the wrong rolodex?”

Will groaned softly, shaking his head and setting the card down as Hannibal walked closer to him, letting Will adjust his lapels. “Is this your way of asking me to spend the day visiting with the Marshalls and determining whether or not they’re meant to be our dinner?,” Will accused, pulling at the dark fabric of Hannibal’s jacket gazing up at him, a small pout on his lips. 

Hannibal smiled, looking like he already knew Will would do it. Unfortunately for Will, he was correct. “You know me so well, mylimasis,” Hannibal crooned, cupping Will’s face to give him a second goodbye kiss.

“Mhm,” Will sighed, touching Hannibal’s hair as the other pressed soft kisses to Will’s cheek, jawline, forehead. Despite the fluttering of his heart, Will still put on a sulking face. “Go to work, darling. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thank you, my love,” Hannibal murmured, kissing Will again and pulling back with a smug self satisfied smile. If Will didn’t love this bastard so much, he’d punch him. It was still an appealing thought. 

Will rolled his eyes, moving away from Hannibal’s grasp to pick up Hannibal’s mug and press it into his hands. “I’ll see you tonight,” Will announced, pushing Hannibal in the direction of the door and crossing his arms over his chest. The man had a feeling any appearance of irritation was diminished by the fact he was wearing Hannibal’s red sweater. Will didn’t mind, he loved wearing Hannibal’s clothes around the house, and he had a feeling Hannibal did too, considering the amount of sweaters added to his wardrobe after Will started wearing Hannibal’s crimson one.

“I’ll be sure to get you flowers if our guests are truly guests, darling,” Hannibal soothed, going to the door and putting his hand on the door handle with a smile at Will. “I love you.”

Will made an attempt to keep up his annoyance, but he melted at the fondness shining in Hannibal’s eyes. _I’m so in love, goddamnit_. He sighed, arms falling to his side and returning Hannibal’s gentle smile with one of his own. “I love you too,” he said, picking up his mug again and drinking while still looking at Hannibal. “Have a good day at work.”

“I will,” Hannibal assured his husband, opening the door and letting it close behind him with a gentle click.

A couple moments trickled by in the following silence.

Will drank more of his coffee, basking in the caffeine and the gentle morning light emanating from the windows and illuminating the kitchen until his beverage was finished. Looking back at the notebook with a sigh, Will raised his head as he washed the mug and set it on the drying rack.  
  


_I should have pouted more_ , Will pondered to himself with a sigh, going upstairs to get changed for the visit to the floral shop. Hannibal definitely would have caved then, they could have killed the Marshalls regardless of their guilt, and Will wouldn’t have to socialize on his own. Between the couple, Will had to keep his moral compass a little more aligned, because Hannibal certainly wouldn’t. He doubted hatred of social interaction was a valid excuse for the murder of two possibly innocent people.

However, the loss of a good floral business was an instance Will would regret, so he supposed it was worth the inconvenience. After all, Hannibal enjoyed gifting Will bouquets that corresponded to the Victorian language of flowers. Will’s disappointment at that thought outweighed his desire for as little social interaction as possible, despite the fact he was very good at acting otherwise.

Will thought the display windows of the floral shop were arranged with a dedication that Hannibal Lecter himself would approve of. Purple hyacinths and camellias were in matching white pots tied with silver ribbons, contrasting the pink roses that were neatly overflowing the other display window in one large glass vase. Will wondered why Hannibal didn’t order from here more often, if the couple hadn’t formed a strong enough impression for Hannibal to remember whether or not they deserved to be dinner, he must have only bought from this place once. 

The cheerful ding of the overhanging doorbell chimed through the shop, the interior just as refined as the display windows. 

A curly black haired woman, that Will assumed was Nicole Marshalls and who Will would possibly murder that night, popped up from behind the silver counter. Her full lips pulled back in a cheerful smile when she saw Will and she raised her arms, the best she could do as a greeting with the bundle of white lilies in her hands. 

“Hello!,” Nicole beamed, turning to put the flowers in a golden vase. “How may I help you?”

“I’m Theodor Ireihgila,” Will smiled, going up to the counter and looking at the flowers. Having everyone he knew call Will by his alias didn’t bother him as much as it might have most people. Hannibal called him by his true name, and that man was the only one who’s perception really mattered to him. “I believe you know my husband, Augustus? He’s ordered from here before, I think.”

Nicole gasped in delight, clapping her dark hands together once. “Theodor! It’s so good to meet you!,” she gushed, grin never faltering for a moment. “I’m Nicole. Horace and I are so excited for dinner tonight.”

“It’s very good to meet you, too.” It wasn’t a false statement, Nicole did seem like a genuinely nice person, not the kind that would normally end up on Hannibal’s dinner table. Perhaps they were just guests. That would be disappointing, Will disliked being proven wrong, especially when it came to hunting.

Nicole wiped the water from the flower stems off her hands with the white apron she was wearing, smile morphing into a frown. “Oh no,” she groaned. “Is dinner cancelled?” Will caught a glimpse of silver painted nails, the same shade as her wedding ring, before she stuck her hands within her apron pockets.

“No no, of course not,” Will shook his head, smiling placatingly. The Marshalls would be part of dinner one way or another. “Augustus is thrilled to have you over, I’m picking up ingredients for tonight, in fact. I just wanted to stop by and buy some of your flowers for the centerpiece.” He looked around. “Is Horace around? I’d love for your opinion. Augustus will have nothing but the best, and I have a feeling you both know more about floral arrangements than I do.” That wasn’t entirely true, Will admitted to himself, he had done some research in order to understand Hannibal’s elaborate posies. But, Will didn’t want to go into a store owned by people he barely knew, say hello, and then left. He and Hannibal needed to be perceived as normal as they possibly could.

“Oh he’s in the back,” Nicole grinned, tilting her head back to look at the dividing glass door that separated the two areas of the store. “Horace!”

A large man with painted nails that matched his wife’s pushed open the door with a grin that was just as bright as his wife’s. “Yes, honey?,” he answered Nicole’s summons and looked at Will, grin only widening. “Are we helping this gentleman?”

Will watched Horace stand beside Nicole with a hand on her shoulder as she nodded. “Yes! This is Theodor, Augustus’s husband. He was the nice man who came in a couple months ago?”

Horace seemed to recall the encounter and turned his gaze from Nicole back to Will. “Oh yes! We’re having dinner tonight, right?”

A nod of affirmation, and Will was certain that they would not be having the Marshalls in a meal. He matched the couple’s grin, although admittedly not with the same intensity. “Yes. I was hoping you could assist me in creating a centerpiece?”

Will set a floral arrangement he was sure Hannibal would be happy with on the kitchen counter, blue hyacinths and white peonies tied with ivy. 

The Marshalls had both been exceedingly kind and courteous to Will. They had happily abided by his request to follow flower language, and gave him the ivy that Horace said they only used for decoration or the flowers they bought for each other. They were two of the kindest people Will had met, and he was positive there was no possibility Hannibal meant to serve them for dinner. 

The man could deal with being incorrect about their intentions with the Marshalls, they were a kind couple that seemed very much in love, and Will would be satisfied if they maintained a friendly relationship. 

After placing the bouquet in the same silver vase he’d used the last time Hannibal bought him flowers, Will pulled out his phone to call the man. Hannibal would be on his lunch break now, getting groceries to prepare for dinner after the flowers had taken up all of Will’s morning.

The phone rang twice before Hannibal picked up. “Hello, Will.”

“I believe I know the status of the Marshalls,” Will said confidently. He caught himself smiling happily at the sound of Hannibal’s voice, even through the crackle of the phone. It struck Will how much he missed Hannibal, even if he went to work every day, Will still missed him. At least it was comforting to know Hannibal felt the same way. 

“What a coincidence,” Hannibal responded, and Will heard a shuffle of papers. “I do as well.”

Will tilted his head, smiling widening. “That’s good to hear, darling. Did you remember them properly while you were with a patient?” The man began putting away the materials he bought, glancing at the notebook Will had closed before he left.

“Yes, my dear. Do not worry, the plans for dinner have not changed.”

Will looked at the freezer, where liver and stomach from their last hunt was undoubtedly stored among the other meat and organs. “Alright, Hannibal. Will you be home in time to prepare?”

“Of course. You would still like to assemble dessert, correct?,” Hannibal asked Will. 

It made sense for him to ask of course, if Will baked the jam dessert now, the kitchen would be clean for Hannibal when he returned home. 

Will nodded even though Hannibal couldn’t see him. “Yes, don’t worry, darling. There will be enough space for you to work when you get home.”

The man could practically hear his husband’s smile and could imagine the way he leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Will. I will see you soon.”

“Goodbye, darling,” Will said, gazing at nothing, sure a love struck expression that Hannibal couldn’t see was on his face. After a moment’s hesitation, he added softly, “I miss you.”

There was a pause on the other line, but Hannibal quickly responded in an equally fond tone, “I miss you too, mylimasis. I’ll be home soon.”

Will nodded and ended the call, left with the warm and content feeling that accompanied contact with his husband, regardless whether it was in person or not. He turned to the ingredients and began preparing the raspberry jam pie.

A few hours later, white shirt sleeves rolled up and wiping flour from his forehead, Will glanced at his watch. Five-seventeen, still plenty of time to change, and Hannibal would be returning any moment.

It had taken a long time to bake the pie, but Will knew it would be worth it. The homemade raspberry jam Hannibal had made a few weeks ago and the pie crust made from scratch would undoubtedly taste better than store bought jelly with frozen crust. No husband of Hannibal Lecter’s would buy stuff that was ready made, Will thought to himself in amusement. 

Will’s phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket with the hand not still covered in flour. “Yes, Hannibal?,” he greeted, starting to wash his hands of the leftover jam and flour.

“I am terribly sorry, my love,” Hannibal said forlornly, making Will pause. “I won’t be able to prepare dinner tonight. I’ll be there by seven, but a patient called an emergency appointment. Will you be able to handle everything on your own?”

Hannibal loved cooking for Will and for guests, so the appointment must have truly been important. 

“Of course, love,” Will assured Hannibal, drying his hands with the white quilted dish towel that hung next to the sink and back leaning on the counter. “It won’t be as good as yours, of course, but I’m sure I can manage.”

“Thank you so much, darling.” Hannibal was surely smiling in his office. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you today, and I appreciate you.”

Will laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head and pulling out the liver of the homophobic politician for the foie gras. “Compliment me when you get home, Hannibal. I have everything under control.”

Will Graham-Lecter did in fact have everything under control. In fact, he was rather proud of himself, surveying the product of all his effort. At exactly six-thirty, the four plates of foie gras were in the kitchen ready to be served, silver utensils placed the way Hannibal had taught him and white napkins folded perfectly. The flowers brought the whole ensemble together, and Will hoped that whatever had caused Hannibal not to purchase flowers from them before would be resolved so the couple could order from the Marshalls’s shop again.

The pie was cooling on the open windowsill in the kitchen, a vintage bottle of red wine in a small cooler on the coffee table with four crystal glasses on a tray, and Will was wearing his blue button up with the matching patterned waistcoat Hannibal loved on him. Everything was perfect.

The doorbell rang and Will grinned to himself. The Marshalls were right on time, all Will had to do was entertain them for half an hour, and then Hannibal would arrive and steer the conversation from there. All according to plan, Hannibal would be proud, and Will wasn’t embarrassed to say he was pleased with himself.

Will opened the door and gestured for the Marshalls to enter, smiling warmly at the couple. 

Horace walked in with his hand on Nicole’s back in a green suit that matched Nicole wearing an emerald evening gown and holding a bottle of red wine between her hands which were clad in black silk gloves, holding the bottle out with a large smile. 

“Thank you for having us over, Theodor,” Horace greeted as Will took the bottle of wine from his wife.

“It’s my pleasure. Welcome. Augustus is running late, but he’ll be home in half an hour,” Will explained, examining the label of the flagon and nodding in appreciation, leading the couple to the living room. “This looks excellent, thank you. We can all share it tonight, I believe. Have a seat.”

Nicole and Horace both sat on the soft brown couch, Nicole crossing her legs and watching Will with slight concern as he opened the bottle and poured the scarlet drink into three glasses. “Oh dear. Should we have come at a later time? We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you two,” she said with furrowed brows, Will handed one of the glasses to her and then to Horace. 

“Oh it’s no trouble,” Will reassured his guest with another smile, sitting in the matching armchair across from them and drinking from his own glass. The wine was sweet on his tongue, and Will was content with having the Marshalls’s gift as an appreciation of their gesture over the decanter he’d picked out himself. “I cooked the meal myself, and we can eat as soon as Augustus returns.”

Horace sipped his wine, glancing at the centerpiece and then back to Will. “You cook as well, Theodor? Augustus told us he loved throwing dinner parties.”

Will chuckled quietly, lips around the rim of his glass. “I’m sure he did.”

When the door opened, Will checked the clock with a rush of satisfaction. Exactly seven o’ clock. Hannibal Graham-Lecter, always on time.

“Welcome home, Augustus,” Will greeted with a smile, gesturing to their guests as he stood. “Let’s not keep our guests waiting for too much longer, alright?”

While the Marshalls laughed and rose, Will was startled by Hannibal’s expression. The man looked confused and shocked for a split second before he very quickly put on the mask of a pleasant host. Will couldn’t think of why, but he simply stepped aside as Hannibal shook both Nicole and Horace’s hands.

_Really? I prepare a whole meal and keep the guests entertained on my own for thirty minutes. What could I possibly have done wrong?_ , Will’s thoughts were exasperated but he didn’t show it. 

“Very good to see you again,” Hannibal welcomed warmly, eyes flitting over them and then back to Will, looking like he expected something from him. “If you could spare to wait just one more moment, it would be me and Theodor’s pleasure to serve you.” 

Nicole giggled and sat down with Horace on either side of the table, leaving the heads open for their hosts. “You’re both so sweet, I’m sure Theodor’s dinner tastes amazing.”

Will skeptically watched Hannibal smile and place a hand on Will’s lower back, gently steering him into the kitchen. “Yes, my husband is a lovely cook,” Hannibal declared, “It will just be a minute.” 

Luckily for them, the kitchen was far enough from the dining room for Will and Hannibal to hold a conversation out of earshot from their guests.

Will wasn’t annoyed, just confused as to why Hannibal was surprised. 

“What’s wrong?,” Will demanded, brushing off Hannibal’s touch to plate the foie gras. “I prepared everything perfectly, what’s the problem?” 

Perhaps he was a little annoyed.

Hannibal pinched the bridge of his nose, lips pursed. “Will, the problem is that you’re serving dinner to the guests who were _meant_ to be tonight's meal,” Hannibal said slowly, watching Will prepare the dishes. “Mylimasis, I thought you had everything handled.”

Will looked back at Hannibal with raised brows, putting the tongs down to frown in confusion. “What are you talking about? You said the plans for dinner hadn’t changed.” Will aggressively waved in the direction of dinner and then the pie on the windowsill. “These are the plans, Hannibal.”

Hannibal blinked, shaking his head. “You said this morning the plans were to hunt the Marshalls.”

Will rolled his eyes, brushing loose curls out of his face and sighing in chagrin. Two of the smartest people on Earth and they miscommunicated this bad? “Yeah that was before I ordered flowers from them and discovered they were some of the most courteous people on Earth. There’s no way you meant to kill them, Hannibal,” Will said strenuously, attempting to elucidate the situation. 

Will found himself irritated that Hannibal had assumed Will would automatically understand Hannibal had decided to believe Will’s interpretation of the plans. Truly, was it so difficult to say “Oh Will, I think you were right” and then Will could have said “Oh no dear actually _you_ were right”?

Although Will admitted that was hypocritical, he hadn’t said anything of the sort to Hannibal on either of their calls that day. Still, he had been looking forward to dinner, which he didn’t do often. 

Hannibal sighed, tapping his fingers on the counter again. His eyes were lowered to stare at the foie gras Will had spent so long preparing. There was a long moment of silence while Will continued to plate dinner. “I suppose I assumed that since I only used their business once, that they were ill mannered. But I,” he paused and exhaled. “I suppose there’s a possibility that I,” Hannibal swallowed, “made a mistake.”

Perhaps the world didn’t hate Will that day.

Will gasped dramatically and turned to Hannibal, a shining grin on his face with brows high in amusement. “Doctor Hannibal Graham-Lecter,” he exhaled breathlessly, going to Hannibal and putting his hands on either side of Hannibal’s neck. “Did you just say you made a mistake?”

Hannibal’s nostrils flared and he did his equivalent of an eye roll, darting his eyes to the side before looking back at Will. “I am only human, mylimasis,” Hannibal lamented, eyes crinkling in amusement. 

Will shushed Hannibal, pulling him into a loving kiss. “Let me enjoy this moment, Hannibal.”

He felt Hannibal smile against his mouth and a chuckle rumbled throughout Hannibal’s chest. “Very well, darling.” Hannibal pulled back and looked at the meal on the counter and Will was surprised to see that admiration, Hannibal normally only reserved that look for Will directly, was blooming on his face. “It looks delicious. I am anxious to see what you have made for us tonight, Will.”

Will grinned again, kissing Hannibal again before handing him two plates of foie gras. “Why thank you, love. You can give your compliments to the chef after the Marshalls are gone, I’d rather hear them by my name and not Theodor.” He picked up the two other plates and brushed past Hannibal to return to their guests. Will smiled to himself when he heard Hannibal laugh softly.

“I’m sorry for the wait, you two,” Will apologized when he and Hannibal entered the dining room to position the plates in the proper setting. “There was a little dispute over what plates to use.”

Horace laughed quietly, shaking his head. “If this tastes half as good as it looks, I’ll count it well worth the wait.”

Nicole seemed to share the same sentiment, giggling and sipping from her wine glass. 

Will made a motion to top off everyone’s flutes, but Hannibal stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You prepared dinner, mylimasis, let me pour,” Hannibal insisted, and he had a look that let Will know he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. 

Will nodded and relinquished the wine bottle into Hannibal’s hand, taking his seat at one of the table heads, smiling fondly as he watched Hannibal fill everyone’s glasses. 

“Mylimasis,” Nicole repeated, turning the words over in her mouth, turning to Hannibal thoughtfully. “What language is that, Augustus?”

Hannibal took his seat, drinking from his glass before turning to Nicole with a smile. “Lithuanian,” Hannibal answered smoothly, dark eyes on Will. “It means ‘my love’.”

Will felt his heart swell and had to hide the flush of color in his cheeks with a bite of the foie gras. It was very good, perhaps not as good as Hannibal’s, but Will was content and satisfied with himself.

Horace chewed and swallowed, looking at Will with delight. “This is absolutely divine, Theodor,” he praised, smiling. “Thank you for cooking for us.”

“If you think this is good, you have to taste Augustus’s cooking,” Will gazed at Hannibal over the rim of his wine glass, a smirk on his face. “He taught me everything I know.” 

Hannibal’s tender smile made Will’s heart melt, and he itched to take Hannibal’s hand in his own. “Don’t sell yourself short my dear,” he chastised in a quiet and affectionate tone, taking a second bite of his meal. “You’re an exceptional student.”

The table shared a laugh, spending the next couple moments in pleasurable silence.

Nicole broke the silence, turning to look at Will with curiosity apparent on her face. “So,” she started blithely, taking another sip of red wine, “why did you decide to come to Tirasano?”

Will paused, fork leaving his mouth and he chewed thoughtfully. “We needed a home, and here seemed like the perfect place for us to be together.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement, sipping his glass and Will affectionately noticed him inhaling the bouquet. His husband, so refined. “Anywhere I’m with my husband,” Hannibal said, eyes lifting to Will. “Is home to me.”

Will’s cheeks heated and he swallowed another gulp of wine. As much as he enjoyed the company of the Marshalls, he found himself wishing he and Hannibal were alone. He adored being in Hannibal’s arms, or Hannibal in his. Hopefully the dinner would pass without any issues, they would have dessert, and he and Hannibal could spend the rest of the evening reading or just holding each other. When he was with Hannibal, all was well. Hannibal was all Will wanted.

“You two are just the most loving couple I’ve ever seen,” Horace observed, smiling at Nicole. “No offense, sweetheart.”

Nicole laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth. “None taken, honey.” Her attention turned back to Will. “But really, what made you choose here? Where did you live before?”

Will halted, food halfway to his mouth. “I’m sorry?,” he asked, tilting his head in Nicole’s direction.

“Nicole don’t pester the poor man,” Horace reprimanded, shaking his head slightly. “Really, sweetie, your nosiness will be the death of you.” There was nothing but affection in his tone, clearly full of love for his wife.

Hannibal was still playing the role of perfect host, he leaned on one arm towards Nicole, politely chewing with a smile. “It doesn’t really matter where we lived before I think. We’re here now, and we’re happy, that’s all that matters.” He straightened his posture, carefully placing his forearms on the table, the flawless model of manners.

“Augustus is right,” Will agreed, adjusting the placement of his fork slightly. Will was slightly less rigorous in his etiquette, but he could admire Hannibal’s polite behavior just as he adored everything else about his husband. “He’s all I could ever want or need,” he said, echoing his internal thoughts from earlier, basking in the way Hannibal gazed at him.

“Of course,” Nicole said, drinking more wine. “But everyone comes from somewhere. Augustus is from Lithuania, right? Did you live there before this?”

Will blinked, staring at Nicole with furrowed brows, his attempt at a welcoming smile still on his face. “We…” He peered at Hannibal, trying to work his mouth and give an answer. Hannibal offered nothing.

Did they?

“How long have you been married?,” Nicole asked, beaming.

Tearing his eyes away from his husband and to his guest, Will’s eyebrows creased more, lips open slightly, staring into her dark eyes. They were just reflecting Will’s face back at him. The joy that had been there moments before was gone.

Why couldn’t Will remember?

“Nicole come on now, don’t-”

There was a shattering of glass. Will saw blood gush from Horace’s hand. A gash on the man’s palm in Will’s peripheral. Horace was silent, he shouldn’t have been silent, a laceration that deep was excruciatingly painful.

“Where did you come from?”

The voice of the woman echoed in Will’s head. Resounding, demanding, everywhere.

_Where?_

Where had they lived before this? They had to have lived somewhere. They hadn’t lived here forever. Where had Hannibal been a doctor? Where had they gotten married?

How did Hannibal and Will meet?

_Why can’t I remember?_

Will was falling, falling in darkness. It was collapsing all around him, there was nothing he could do. He was alone, all alone, completely alone. 

Hannibal was-

_No._

_No, he’s not._

Hannibal was right there, across from him, expression open and blank as he stared at Will. He was there, and he was with Will. They were having dinner, and Horace was bleeding from a gouge in his hand. 

Will blinked, turning to Hannibal. “Hannibal, help him,” he said breathlessly.

Hannibal leapt up and took Horace’s wrist in his hand, pulling out the piece of glass embedded in his palm and wrapping a napkin around the wound and tying it tightly in a perfect knot. “Keep pressure on that,” he ordered evenly, slipping into his doctor persona instantly. 

“Augustus was a surgeon,” Will explained quickly. He stood and picked up all of the loose pieces of glass.

Nicole gasped, standing and going to Horace’s side, hands grabbing at his shoulder in worry. “Will he be alright, Augustus?,” she pleaded, looking up at Hannibal in fear, dark eyes blown wide with tears.

Horace leaned into his wife’s touch, face scrunched up with pain. “It’s not that bad, honey, I’m ok.” Will was glad to see Horace was being truthful, the man displayed none of the usual tics people had when they lied.

Hannibal nodded, looking at the white fabric staining with blood. “He will be fine. I have a first aid kit in the bathroom, I will dress the wound, and as long as you keep it clean, stitches will not be necessary.” He looked at Will, lips pressed together tightly. “Theodor, if you would please?”

Will swallowed and with a quick bob of his head, went to retrieve it from the master bedroom. He came back with the small black case they kept within the mirrored cabinet above the cream sink, and two hand towels, one dry and the other soaked with water. Hannibal was crouched next to Horace, applying pressure to the wound with a look of intense surgical concentration that Will knew from somewhere. 

Hannibal glimpsed the supplies in Will’s hand and dipped his head appreciatively. He untied the napkin and set the blood soaked strip of fabric on one of the empty plates. “Thank you. If you wash the wound, I will cut the bandages and prepare the antiseptic.”

Will obeyed instantly, taking Hannibal’s place in kneeling next to Horace, wiping the blood away with the wet hand towel first, watching the blood sop into the material, a heavy lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry, Horace,” he said gently, looking up at the man, blue eyes open with genuine regret. 

Horace shook his head, wincing as Will placed the wet towel next to the blood logged napkin and exchanged it for the dry one. “It’s my fault,” Horace argued, eyes scrunched up in pain. “I shouldn’t have gripped it so hard.” A strained smile crossed his face, making Will appreciate the man and his attitude even more. “I guess I’m not used to such fine crystal.”

Nicole looked miffed at her husband’s nonchalance but said nothing. Her fingers rubbed at his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, Will assumed.

Will chuckled in a forced tone, standing up and letting Hannibal press antiseptic saturated cotton to the cut. 

Hannibal cleaned the wound with the efficiency that showed he had medical practice. He dropped the cotton on the plate with the increasing number of blood covered material. The man pressed new dry cotton against the cut, beginning to wrap Horace’s hand in gauze. “Hopefully if we have dinner again, there will be no injuries,” Hannibal said in a tone so serious it was clear he was joking. 

Nicole and Horace laughed quietly and Will’s forced smile relaxed against his will. He couldn’t help it, Hannibal had a way of making everything better.

Will didn’t know what he would do without him.

“There,” Hannibal said with finality, standing up and looking over his work to check for any errors, even though it was clearly perfect. “If you don’t have a first aid kid, I’d be happy to provide you with ours,” he offered. 

Horace shook his head, rising to his feet with a grunt. “You’ve done enough. Really, thank you,” he said gratefully, leaning against Nicole. “I’m sorry to walk out before dessert, but I think I need to rest now.”

Will waved a hand, letting Hannibal place a hand on his lower back. Hannibal must have known the touch was a grounding comfort. “No need to apologize. I’ll bring you a fresh pie soon as an apology for how the night turned out.”

Nicole held Horace’s uninjured hand, looking at Will and Hannibal with a reverent expression. “You two are both so kind,” she said in awe. “Please, visit us soon, we’d love to have dinner another time.” 

Hannibal’s hand dropped from Will’s back, making a pang of loss shoot through him, even though Hannibal was just leading them to the door. “You have my word,” Hannibal promised, opening the door for them. “Inform me if you have any suspicions of infections.”

The Marshalls vowed they would follow his instructions, and then they were gone.

Hannibal closed the door and leaned against it with a heavy sigh, eyes closed. 

Will heaved himself into the closest dining chair that wasn’t soaked with blood, slumping forward in his arms. 

He felt Hannibal’s hands on his shoulders, applying pressure in what Will assumed was an impromptu massage. Will let out a groan, lifting his head up and melting under Hannibal’s strong hands. 

Hannibal leaned down to quietly speak in Will’s ear. “I can’t help but find what happened tonight wildly ironic,” he told Will in the deep voice he used when endeavoring to mollify his husband. “Considering what my plans for them were.”

Will’s surprised bark of laughter turned into a grunt of pleasure when Hannibal successfully worked out a knot in his muscles. “You’re awful,” Will accused. He tilted his head back, his blue eyes meeting Hannibal’s adoring dark ones and catching sight of the satisfied smile on Hannibal’s lips. 

“Yes, I am aware,” Hannibal agreed, one hand going to cup Will’s chin, smirking down at him, his eyes roving over Will. 

It was mildly amusing, knowing that the Marshalls’s blood could have been spilled in a very different way if Hannibal had gotten to them before Will had. The blood over their dining room would have been much more pressing to dispose of, if that was the case.

Will inclined his head to the blood covered materials staining the plate and the floor where Horarce’s blood was spilled. “We have to clean, Hannibal,” he muttered.

Hannibal pulled Will’s chin so he was facing up to meet Hannibal’s gaze again. “Yes. But afterwards, I’d like to enjoy your dessert. I’m very happy with dinner, and I can only assume that dessert will be just as exceptional.”

Will smiled up at Hannibal, reaching to touch Hannibal’s cheek. “After cleaning,” he confirmed firmly.

“Yes, mylimasis. After cleaning,” Hannibal chuckled, and Will was reminded that Hannibal would do anything Will asked of him. “I truly am proud of you, darling. I knew you were capable of cooking, but not capable of being such a good dinner host to the extent you showed tonight. You continue to astound me every day, darling.”

Will’s chest warmed with compassion, and his cheeks flushed. Judging by the way Hannibal’s expression softened, his cheeks were blooming with the blood rush. It was outrageous that Hannibal could make Will so pliable with just a simple compliment, but it happened anyways. He loved Hannibal so much, it was almost staggering. What life would be without him, Will refused to even consider. But that thought didn’t matter. Hannibal was here, and he was wonderful. Even if he was an asshole.

“Just kiss me, you pretentious prick,” Will huffed, fingers wrapping in Hannibal’s hair.

Hannibal laughed, voice low enough to make Will’s heart flutter, and followed Will’s pull of his hair to join their lips in a kiss that made the rest of the world fade around them, because nothing else mattered when Will had all he wanted in the palm of his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are wondering, Theodor W Adorno was a German philosopher
> 
> Augustus was a Roman philosopher
> 
> Ireihgila is Dante's last name backwards
> 
> Tirasano is a made up town
> 
> Blue hyacinths represent constancy, ivy means happiness in marriage and white peonies represent an apology


End file.
